Romantic Interludes
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: For the first years of his life, Scott had been told that the only acceptable way to treat a lady was with respect, dignity and spontaneously romantic actions. The first two were never difficult, but around Jean he had seriously begun to doubt the wisdom


Disclaimer: This is under movie canon because it has ties to "My Last Breath". The prequel timeline-wise to the fic. Supposed-to-be-cute S/J ficlet, reviews appreciated. I own nothing. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For the first ten years of his life, Scott had been told that the only acceptable way to treat a lady was with respect, dignity and spontaneously romantic actions. The first two were never difficult, but he had seriously begun to doubt the wisdom in the last.

It all started with the source of all society's problems: women. Not that Jean was _usually_ too complicated to understand, but she had her moments. And her current behavior could be placed under the category of one big behavioral issue. 

She woke up at 6:30 as usual. But when he rolled over to kiss her good morning, she practically leapt out of bed to avoid him, which was _not_ usual. 

She managed to avoid him at breakfast, and slip off to her morning classes before he could intercept her. She had locked herself into the lab by lunch, and from what he could manage to gather, Ororo brought her dinner. By midnight, he'd given up. She slipped in about 2 am, and fell asleep on the futon. 

The next morning was worse. She refused to even look in his general direction, and left any room he entered. He was tempted to cancel the dinner he had been planning for weeks, but the Summers' stubborn streak kicked in. With a flowery invitation in hand, he tracked down Storm.

"See this arrives in Jean's hands by 3 this afternoon."

The stunning white haired mutant grinned impishly, "I take it she's avoiding you? And to think, you were worried you couldn't keep it from her."

"Just see that she gets that," he ordered, stomping off. Did the _ entire_ institute know?

~*~*~*~

Jean split her glances between the invitation in her hands and her friend in the door.

"You know, you're making Scott nervous. And when he's nervous, he gets cranky. Apparently he punched a hole through the door to the garage. Now, you know how students tend to exaggerate things, but there _is_ a dent." 

"If I end up within ten feet of him before tonight, I'll lose it. Assuming it's even…"

"I was sworn to secrecy."

"Fine then. See if I care. Just make sure you have a tub of ice cream on hand if need be. And a few chick flicks wouldn't hurt either."

They both laughed.

"Knock'im dead girl."

~*~*~*~

Jean gave one last, nervous tug of her dress and tucked a stray hair back into her bun. _Front gate at 8_, the invitation said. It was too late to do anything else; he could take it or leave it.

~*~*~*~

Scott grimaced at his attempt for dressed for dinner. Somehow, the suit seemed a bit too wrinkled, and a little short in the arms. Too late now, she could take it or leave it.

He silently cursed whatever had inspired him to clout a wooden door. It was probably the same being that motivated him to track down the chef of Jean's favourite restaurant, convince him to send gifts with each helping, and then bought those gifts. Ludicrous, that's what it was.

~*~*~*~

The trip to _Marceau's_ was silent, broken only periodically by strangled attempts for conversation. Scott pulled into a parking space two blocks away, and opened Jean's door.

"M'lady, perhaps you would care for a stroll to the restaurant?" 

"Thank you, kind sir."

Things seemed a bit more normal as they ambled down the sidewalk arm-in-arm. That was, at least until Scott felt the unmistakable wetness of a snowball hit the back of his head.

He spun quickly, only to hear Jean's mocking laughter. 

He grabbed her waist, "Oh yeah? Take that!" and pulled her into a nearby snowdrift.

"Hey!" she squealed, laughing as she threw more snow into his face.

He retaliated, and for all the New York City pedestrians walking by that night, they were struck by the side of two people dressed in evening finery frolicking like children in the snow.

~*~*~*~

After their game was exhausted, they stood up and brushed themselves off as best they could. Scott quickly glanced at his watch. "We'll have time to make our reservation if we hurry." 

Jean gave a small shiver. "I could do with some warm food right now."

He responded by draping his arm over her and pulling her close. "Then let's move."

The walk was quick, and they managed to make it with three minutes to spare. 

"Summers and Grey," they told the maitre d', who looked at them once before excusing himself. 

A moment later, the manager emerged from a back room. "I'm sorry sir, but there seems to be a problem with your reservation."

"What are you talking about? I phoned it in weeks ago!"

"Yes sir, but, well, you see…you aren't exactly in proper attire for dinner here. To respect our other patrons, I will ask you to leave. The next time you come, dinner will be on the house. I'm really very sorry sir," he said.

Scott looked down at his clothes and Jean's, and barely repressed a chuckle. They were soaked, and rumpled enough to look like kids just out of the backseat of his father's car. 

"Quite understandable sir."

~*~*~*~

"What now?" Scott grinned down at Jean. 

She smiled back, and there was more then a glint of mischief in her eyes. "I have an idea."

"I have a few myself," he joked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. 

She smacked him. "My turn to plan. Get back to the car, and close your eyes."

"I don't think it's safe to drive with my eyes closed."

"It's not, I'm driving."

"No."

"Get!"

~*~*~*~

Jean stopped at a five and dime, grabbed her supplies, and went to the nearest fast food joint: a McDonald's, it turned out.

She left Scott in the car, and went to set up.

Within minutes she was back, guiding him to her "surprise". 

The table was covered in a table cloth, and decorated with fake flowers and two burning candles. 

"You remembered," he said, sounding shocked.

"Of course I did."

~*~*~*~

Scott stared at the table Jean had set, and smiled. Only she would remember that he used to think something like this was the ultimate date. Now, that was being anywhere with Je- the gifts!

The gifts were still at _Marceau's_! 

He quickly mumbled something about using the washroom and hurried out of the store. He rummaged though the trunk of the car and looked over his materials.

A newspaper, one of Jean's old eyeliners, a paperclip and the ring.

Sighing, he went to work.

~*~*~*~

The hors d'oeuvres, a delicious week old Caesar salad, were accompanied by something approaching origami flowers. Jean, of course, made much of them, though she had first mistaken them for a scrunched up newspaper. Scott tried to explain that the roses he had planned were identifiably flora. 

The main course, which was approaching edible, included an invitation to the theatre. An eyeliner and napkin invitation, but an invitation nether less.

Over sundaes, he pulled the ring box out of his pocket and sat it on the table.

"The only thing I didn't leave at _Marceau's_," he explained.

"I see," she said. 

She left it there, and he shifted nervously. After a minute, he reached to take it off the table, but she picked it up.

Getting as close to on one knee as her dress allowed, she asked him. "Will you, Scott Summers, marry me?"

"I don't think _that_ ring will fit me."

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes."

A smile split her face, and he had never seen someone more beautiful. She stood up, and slipped the ring over her finger.

"Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance."

He stood up, stuck between feeling utterly absurd and being too in love to notice the other customers staring at them. For the first time, he was aware of the music playing quietly in the background.

_ So I'm a little left of center   
I'm a little out of tune  
Some say I'm paranormal  
So I just bend their spoon  
Who wants to be ordinary  
In a crazy, mixed-up world  
I don't care what they're sayin'  
As long as I'm your girl…_

They danced.


End file.
